


Rest.

by leithvoid



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: F/M, Gen, This is gunna hurt, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:21:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23279308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leithvoid/pseuds/leithvoid
Summary: Lance Corporal William Scofield is home now, but he still revisits Blake.
Relationships: William Schofield/Ms Schofield
Kudos: 24





	Rest.

After the Great War when Lance Corporal William Schofield came home, there were night’s he’d sit in front of the fire. He’d stare at it, the wind would howl around his home, his wife baking in the kitchen and his daughters in bed asleep.

He remembered wrapping his arm’s around his wife when he got off the boat and stood on home ground for the first time. Holder his body against his ruined uniform. He’d tried his best to wash out the stains, but he didn’t do very well. She didn’t care though because he was home.

William remembered when be bent down to kiss his girls, that he thought so a moment he was bending down as he moved through trenches on the front line. His youngest’s hand on his cheek pulling him back to them. “Hi sweetheart,” he’d said. “Look how much you’ve grown!”

But when the world becomes quiet again, when the fire burned and crackled in the darkness of his warm living room; a particular memory always came back too him.

_ A hand pushed against his right breast pocket, a laugh that came from a younger soldier which filled the dark quiet that surrounded the men around the small fire they’d been allowed to light. The fire didn’t give off much heat but somehow it was better than any alternative. The youngers laughed died down as the older soldiers moved to another fire, to play cards or smoke.  _

_ There was a brief moment when the rules of the worlds didn’t seem to matter and the younger soldier leaned into the side of Scofield’s body, the weight of the other felt nice. It was homely and comforting, “Scho, do ya think we’ll get to go ‘ome soon?” The younger soldier asked, voice softer now that they were alone. _

_ “I don’t know Blake, maybe.” _

A soft hand rested on William’s shoulder he reached up and placed his bigger hand over it, looking up away from the fire, “are you okay my love?” His wife asked. He smiles, faint lines creasing in either side of his cheeks.

“Fine darling.” She nodded, placing a kiss on his cheek before pulling her hand away and heading into their bedroom. He sat there once again looking into the fire, waiting for the light to go out in their bedroom. Once it did he reached down under his chair and pulled out a small blue tobacco tin.

He trailed the tips of his fingers over its bruised surface and around the battered edges of the soft metal. He looped his fingers for the edge and pulled slightly, trying to not make must sound. The lid opened with grace and inside it was filled with papers, black ink scrolled across them. William dug into them, pulling them from the tin and running his hands over the bumpy surface of the papers.

_ Dear Blake, _

_ I made it. I met your brother. You were right, he does look like you. He took the news well, as well as he could. He said I could write to your mother, which I intend to do once I finish this. _

_ I didn’t know where to take you, the fallen orchard was too far but I didn’t want to leave you just… in the field.  _

_ I’m sorry. _

William remembered writing this letter after he’d gotten food from the mess tent, he’d asked someone for paper. He’d intended to use it all for Ms Blake, but sometimes within him made him wat to write to Blake first. To let him know that William didn’t forget about him that he did, in fact, know the way. He shuffled through a couple more of the letters before pulling out another to read.

_ Dear Blake, _

_ I often find myself thinking of the time you told me about those orchard’s your mother had at her home. Being stuck in these trenches really does leave time to let your mind wander. Today I thought about how you’d look with a couple of those medals on your chest. You would be proud, no doubt. I bet your mother would have been so proud of you. _

_ I had made it a couple of days without eating, but someone offered me a bread and jam sandwich and I remembered how you said it tasted like an old boot - this was worse. _

_ Scho. _

Most night’s William would fall asleep in his chair in front of the fireplace, some night’s he would go for a walk, out in the streets. On a rare occasion, it wasn’t too cold outside, William would go visit Blake, in the cemetery. Though there was no body for his grave, just like his brother, there was a headstone for him.

Will would walk down the cobblestone path, he didn’t need to look up where Blake was any more he just knew. His shoes would click on the stones and he stepped closer to the headstones. He’d turn into a row, and four stones in was Blakes.

He would place a hand over the arching stone, sometimes if it was dark enough he would kneel down and press his forehead to the cool while stone, but he always spoke the same words into the night wind.   
  
“I’m sorry, that I left you.”


End file.
